Eats First, Morals After
by arabellaesque
Summary: What happens when the Child of Bhaal isn't very skilled at the more traditional adventuring professions? Sporadic updates, and based on a certain mod NPC for BG2
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - Sporadic updates, written as and when time permits**

I didn't want to do this – to write down what I remembered. What's in the past is in the past; that's the way I've always seen it, and that's the way it should be. But I suppose I changed my mind. Many already think they know me; Ellie, the girl who left Candlekeep with Gorion, and survived several attempts on her life. Ellie, the Saviour of the Sword Coast, preventing a war between Baldur's Gate and Amn. Ellie, the Adventurer, who brought an end to the banditry plaguing the trade routes during the height of the iron crisis.

Ellie – the Bhaalspawn who killed her own brother in a momentous battle in a ruined city hidden deep below the city of Baldur's Gate.

No one cared that he'd been trying to start a war in our father's name, hoping that the flow of blood and death would propel him into claiming the empty throne of murder in the abyss. No one cared that my intentions – sibling of his, or not – were not similar in the slightest to anything he'd aspired to be.

No one cared about anything, except for the fact that I was a Bhaalspawn, and so was he. Everything he'd been, they expected of me. And so, while he was initially adored by the noblemen and women of the Gate before I'd exposed his intentions, he became reviled in death. So, while I was adored for defeating him...

I was one and the same as him, in their eyes, and they had already begun preparing to revile me in death before I even left their city's gates. Wary glances were exchanged and whispered conversations were subdued whenever I passed. My companions were not immune to this, either – untrustworthy looks were directed at them, and people began to give them almost as wide a berth as they gave me. It got to be too much; for all we'd done for them, for whatever our reasons – they didn't want us there, and we knew it. So we left.

I should introduce my intrepid friends, here, I think; for without them, there wouldn't be half the tale that there already is. I will not go into detail about those who fell, as they remain etched in history as part of the ballads and songs that some bards are still known to perform. There were others, also, who walked with me for only part of the journey. But when I left the gate I was accompanied by four; of them, I'd known Montaron the longest, and his continued loyalty had been the biggest surprise. He was a vicious thing in battle; after some ale, he'd swear he was born to fight, but he was more than adept at disarming a trap and using a lock pick as well.

Branwen also accompanied us; while my own personal vengeance had lain with Sarevok since he murdered my foster-father, her revenge had been done when Tranzig fell, several weeks before. Yet she remained with us, dedicated to our cause – and only partly in gratitude for us releasing her from her stone prison. A strong-willed battle-maiden, she was, with the conviction of Tempus flowing through her veins. As long as we fought the righteous fight, her steadfastness didn't waver.

The third was a young bard named Garrick – and I still believe he was only there so he could espy on Branwen from a distance, that dreamy and adoring look caught on his face as his mind obviously wandered while he watched her deep in her prayers. Why he'd stayed with us for so long I'll never fully know; he wished for tales of heroic acts to regale audiences with, and we certainly provided it; he toughened up in our group, and had no option but to learn how to use a sword if he wished to stay alive. He hardened, both in manner and in appearance. I don't think he would have left the city, at all, had it not been for Branwen.

Finally there was Skie. Skie was spoilt, whiny, annoying and had an awful taste in men. Her lover, Eldoth, accompanied us for a short time – it was only his presence in our group that gave her the confidence to join us in the first place, I think. But we parted ways with him when we returned to our inn a little earlier than he'd expected one day, and caught him in a rather uncompromising position with one of the serving wenches. Needless to say, Skie was broken-hearted – her fantasies were shattered, and she was dealt a harsh hand from reality when it came to romance. She was the daughter of a Duke of Baldur's Gate – Eldoth had seen her as a quick way to make some money, but she'd picked up a thing or two during her travels with us. When he eventually was able to leave, he was sporting a broken arm and two black eyes. I didn't dare ask what other damage she'd levied on him.

She, of course, decided to return home after that. Her dreams were ended, and she, more than any of us, would admit that a life on the road was downright unpleasant, especially for one so pampered. I helped her to pack what little belongings she had, and then walked her to her family's estate. It was only then that we found out her father had died – murdered by all accounts.

Suddenly, another of us was desperate to avenge a death caused by Sarevok. In the days between the discovery of her father's fate and our descent on Sarevok's underground lair, Skie changed drastically. She stopped complaining almost completely, demanded that Montaron spend time with her so she could learn how better to wield a sword. Her skills were limited, but her determination was high – the nights she'd sneaked out of her home to socialise with the more dubious elements of the Gate's society meant she was used to sneaking around, and had a keen eye for details. Montaron ensured that she became able to make the most of that.

And so Skie – spoilt, selfish, snobbish Skie was trained by the Zhentarim assassin in a crash course for her own survival. She survived; and for all her faults, she became my best friend. We had so much in common, it was uncanny. Our fathers had been killed, and we'd avenged them. We were both poorly trained, though Skie had the last laugh there, proving herself capable of picking up Montaron's instruction whenever she wasn't complaining. Whereas I... Well.

Gorion always meant well by me, I'm sure of it. He made me dabble -- learn a little bit here, a little bit there. I knew the basics of so many things; herb lore, magical incantation theory, swordsmanship and chivalry, music and song. But I never got the chance to spend enough time on any one thing to become any _good_ at them, and I hated the great outdoors with a passion. The first time I stepped inside the walls of Baldur's Gate, I knew I was a city girl. So, most people laughed when they got to know our group... We had the sneaky thieves, the capable healer, deadly fighters. And until Xzar's death, we also had someone with a frightening grip on arcane magic.

And who were they led by? Well, me, of course. And when people asked what I was? I was truthful -- better to tell the truth, than to forget the lies you've spun.

"My name is Ellie," I'd say, proud as I could be, with my chin lifted high and a defiant look in my eye. "And I... I am a cook."

--

His name was Irenicus. We didn't know that initially, of course -- he never introduced himself, and only ever spoke in a cryptic manner about power and experiments. I've managed to block most of the memories of it out, over the years, so I can't go into much detail about our time in his dungeon. What I _can_ remember is that his 'experiments' always involved pain – and sometimes even involved death.

When he killed Skie right in front of my eyes... that's when I knew it was personal. He wasn't content with making her scream several dozen times, or even from ending her life all too abruptly. No... He disembowelled her, almost tearing her apart as he ranted on about something he was trying to find. And I was numb. Sure, I'd seen people die before, even people I liked. But not Skie... Not like this.

We weren't the only people to have a grudge against him, it seemed; his lair came under attack, and we managed to free ourselves from our cages during the ensuing confusion. Well, when I say 'we', I really mean myself, Montaron and Garrick. None of us had seen Branwen for several days, and a feeling of dread lurched through my stomach as I remembered what had happened to Skie.

Somehow we managed to find our way through a warren of tunnels, grabbing anything that looked useful in our flight so we were, at least, slightly armed. I ended up with a knife from one of Irenicus' trays, while Montaron managed to find an old, rusty sword and some armour from a dead goblin. Garrick took the chance to show that he _could_ be useful in some situations – he grabbed a handful of scrolls to take with us, and provided some magical back-up when things got tough.

It didn't take us long to find Branwen; and my worst fears were confirmed.

--

_"It... it's not... Is it?"_

_I moved closer to the body. I didn't want to, but Garrick had frozen to the spot, and Montaron was still standing by the doorway listening for anyone approaching. He looked over at me impatiently._

_The blonde hair was a giveaway. Even in her death, it curled slightly at the ends and framed her face beautifully. Or, it would have been beautiful, if you could ignore the tears and slashes across her neck and chest, and the blood smeared across her face. Her eyes were open, staring, unblinkingly at the dark ceiling above us, and she looked pained. Something inside me stirred; a knot of anger, a tiny sensation of frustration. But it was almost instantly quelled by the feeling of sorrow that washed over me as I accepted that she was gone._

_I reached out slowly and closed her eyes. I heard Garrick stifling a sob behind me._

_"She'd want us to... to do something," I said hesitantly. I wasn't a woman of faith -- this wasn't my role, but there was no one else there to do it. And Branwen... her life had been devoted to Tempus. We couldn't just leave her body here, like that – she'd always been the first to object about not properly seeing to our fallen friends._

_"We can no be takin' her wi' us," Montaron pointed out gruffly. "Nor can we afford te hang about here 'til someone catches us standin' around like a bunch o' cry-babies."_

_I nodded mutely, desperately trying to think of what she'd have done. Eventually I turned to Garrick, and beckoned him to come closer. His eyes widened in horror._

_"It'll have to be you," I said, clearing my throat and trying to sound a little more insistent. "I'm not musical, and neither is Monty." The halfling muttered darkly at the use of that name. "And you... you have a good voice, and... and this is what you _do_."_

_"I don't know..." his voice trailed off, and he was shaking. I don't know how much of it was due to grief, and how much was down to fear that he might yet end up sharing the same fate as our priestess had. _

_"Just... just remember how well she fought in battle," I said, trying to be encouraging. "You used to spend hours talking to her. _Sing_."_

_Silence fell. I could see Montaron, out of the corner of my eye, tapping his foot impatiently, but I shook my head at him almost imperceptibly. He rolled his eyes in response, and turned back to the doorway._

_I gave Garrick as long as I could, knowing that if we waited too long we'd lose our chance to use the battles echoing down the halls around us as cover for our own escape. Just as I was about to give up – just as I thought I'd have to take his arm, and drag him away, perhaps mutter a few words myself... Well. He'd closed his eyes, and begun to sing. And it was beautiful._

--

I wish I could remember what he'd sung, but I can't. It was the only time that I'd felt any emotion from his song; previously, I'd been too busy trying to avoid being killed to pay much attention, and he'd rarely agreed to perform for us as evening entertainment.

I managed to say a few words when he was finished, and I took a few of Branwen's possessions with me – her rings, a lock of her hair, some other bits and pieces. Then we moved on. I didn't get a chance to do the same for Skie.

We'd almost escaped before we managed to find anyone else in the place. We could hear people fighting all around us, but we were careful to sidestep any battles. We were in no way prepared to have to fight for our lives.

--

_"So there is sanity in all this madness. If you are not in league with the evil that dwells in this unholy place, Yoshimo begs your assistance."_

He was a fairly tall man with dark features and leather for armour. That was the second thing that struck me as odd. The first was-

_"Ellie?"_

_I blinked and stared, gawping like a feebleminded kobold. The other girl was frowning as if she wasn't sure if she was seeing correctly. I knew how she felt._

_"Im...oen?" I said it slowly; suddenly I wasn't very sure if that _was _her name, or not. She nodded, though her face kept a carefully neutral expression. Then, together, we spoke:_

_"What are _you _doing here?"_

_"Where did _you_ come from?"_

--

There was a brief pause, then we both laughed and the tension was gone. Imoen was the girl I grew up alongside, in Candlekeep. Gorion had been a powerful mage in his day; but with age, he'd decided to settle down a bit, and he'd taken Imoen and me to live with him as his adoptive daughters at Candlekeep.

Of course, he'd taken _me _there to protect me from my siblings and my heritage; I always guessed that he'd picked up Imoen someplace so I'd have some kind of company as a child. Otherwise, I'd have been surrounded by older monks, and probably quite depressed.

Imoen and I... Well. We got on. You'd think that we'd have been as close as anything, considering our upbringing, but the truth be told... we always seemed to be happier doing our own thing. We had an easy acceptance of each other, but I don't know if we ever, really, actively sought the other out all that much. So when Gorion had decided to leave, we were slightly surprised that only I was to be going with him (though in hindsight, that made sense...). And apart from some initial envy over my upcoming travels, Imoen wasn't too upset about our parting. She'd made the local innkeeper, Winthrop, as much of a father to herself as Gorion was, anyway. Maybe that's why he'd decided to leave her behind, safely in the settlement.

It wasn't _that_ safe, though – Sarevok's doppelgangers managed to infiltrate the security and take over the guises of many of the inhabitants within. Due to the fickle nature of Fate and her timing, it was exactly when I returned, for the first time, to the halls of the library; and was instantly framed for murdering Rieltar Anchev, Sarevok's father.

It was only with the combined help of Tethtoril and Imoen that we managed to escape through the catacombs so we could make our way back to the city to expose Sarevok. Only, it wasn't quite that simple...

But, to get back to the point; after that incident; while we recovered in the Duchal Palace as Heroes of the Sword Coast, Imoen sent word that the doppelgangers had been destroyed from Candlekeep, and listed those I'd known and loved who had died during their invasion. More happiness came with her assurances that some people been kept alive for unknown reasons, and were duly freed and tended to in the weeks following the event.

I never got around to replying to her letter.

--

_"You go first," I said, glancing over towards the 'Yoshimo' character. He'd backed away quietly in those few moments, and was watching the scene with open fascination._

_Imoen just shrugged helplessly. "I'd just left Candlekeep, on my way to Baldur's Gate to take up a position... err, book-keeping."_

_My eyebrow instinctively rose. "'Book-keeping'?" I asked, disbelievingly. _

_Imoen's eyes twinkled. "Well, that's what I had to tell Parda," she said slyly. "An' it is working with books, sorta; tomes and spellbooks, at least. "_

_I grinned; so she _had_ taken up the magical arts, after all. Gorion had always tried to persuade her to study, but she was happier running around and stealing from the few visitors who managed to make it into the settlement._

_At least my only crimes were of the culinary variety. Well, mainly._

_"And?" I asked, waiting for her to continue._

_"Oh, well." She crossed her arms. "I travelled with one of the nobles heading up that way, and we got to the city. I... uh, registered with my new employer-"_

_"You went to work for the Thieves Guild, didn't you?"_

_"And then set out to explore the town while I had a free evening," she continued, blithely ignoring me. "Was enjoyin' the walk, when suddenly everythin' went dark, and, when I woke up..." She took a look around herself and shivered. "I don't like it, Ellie. Not one bit."_

_I nodded. "Have you had the pleasure of meeting our captor yet?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. I was relieved when she shook her head._

_"This place is creepy enough as it is," she noted, then flashed a half-smile at the stranger standing off to one side. Montaron was glaring at him; Garrick was standing in a corner, his arms wrapped around himself._

_"I found Yoshimo when I got out," Imoen explained. "He was in one of the cells next to mine; a golem had unlocked mine, an' then just went... dead, all of a sudden. Then we heard the fightin'. I let him free and we've been trying to find a way out since."_

"_We'd be better off not hanging around," I noted, only offering a quick and polite nod to the swarthy stranger. "Come on – we can't be far away, now."_

--

And so, together, we fought our way further through the strange prison, and eventually saw daylight. We ran towards it, and I heard Imoen laughing, and felt relief washing over me at the same time.

I remember feeling the fresh air cascading past my face, letting it pour into my lungs, replacing the dusty and dank air I'd been forced to endure while I was held captive. And then a momentary stab – I was leaving the bodies of two of my friends in the maze of tunnels, resigning them to an end without a proper burial.

But nothing could have persuaded me to go back into that place.

Nothing.

Not until we emerged properly into the open air once again, and I saw nothing but rubble, debris, dirt and the mage who'd imprisoned us. He was slaughtering hooded figures left, right and centre, and when he'd run out of fodder, he turned his attentions to us, and the obligatory exchange of half-hearted threats were made.

Except I played no part in it, at all – Irenicus spoke directly to Imoen, and she answered him back defiantly, eventually sending some of her own magic towards him. It didn't even seem to reach through his protections, though his own counter-spell caused her to cry out in pain.

And then more figures appeared, but these ones wore different hoods. They chastised us for not having the proper spell-casting license, and before I knew it, they'd arrested Irenicus, and taken Imoen in too, at his request. For the first time, I felt truly confused.

Now, don't get me wrong – there's plenty of times when I wish the focus of people had been on someone _else_, and not me, the Child of Bhaal. But I'd been completely overlooked at this point, and I guess my sense of self-importance was slightly disjointed by it all.

Added to the fact that Imoen had been arrested and whisked off, and I wasn't entirely sure she was safe. Or that she'd even be released. I wasn't entirely sure what to do, at all.

--

_Montaron was rummaging through the pockets of the dead, strewn around the area, so I turned to Garrick rather hopefully, expecting him to show how erstwhile a companion he was, and provide counsel and guidance to me in this unusual circumstance._

"_I can't do this any more!" he wailed, before I could even open my own mouth. "It's all just too much!"_

_I could do nothing but watch as he scrambled away on his hands and knees, descending from the ledge we'd found ourselves on, and then running away between the crowds of people who'd all stopped in their tracks, and were looking right back up at… me._

_I swallowed hard and took the opportunity to cast my eye around and determine just where, exactly, we were. To my relief, we appeared to be in a city of some sort – I could see signs for shops, and a large colourful tent had been pitched up not too far in the distance. We appeared to be in some kind of amphitheatre, or some such – the tall walls had huge arched windows cut into them, and I could only just make out the sprawl of buildings extending far beyond this particular area. Someone to my left cleared their throat, and I turned to see the Eastern stranger watching me carefully._

"_If I may be so bold, my friend," he said neutrally, "we appear to be in Amn."_

"_Amn?" I asked. That was _much_ further south than I'd hoped._

"_I'd even guess at this being Athkatla, the city of Coin," he continued, a faint hint of a smile crossing his lips now. I swore colourfully. If there was one thing we _didn't_ have, it was coin. Unless…_

_I turned back to Montaron, who'd finally finished with his rummaging, and was sorting through some bits and pieces he'd decided to keep for the good of the group. "Was there any money in there?" I asked. _

_He offered me a half-smirk, half-smile and nodded. I relaxed slightly, and turned back to this Yoshimo fellow. "You know your way around this city?"_

_He nodded._

"_Then you can show us to the nearest inn," I said, "and then the way to whatever serves as the government for here."_

--

I'd expected to waltz into the Government Building, demand Imoen's freedom, and still have time to browse the markets that lined the streets between the Promenade and the large bridge. Unfortunately, Amnian laws weren't co-operative, and no one seemed to know who I was, which was both a blessing and a curse. I did ponder upon the merits of revealing my rather dubious heritage to the civil servants, but opted against it in the long run. From the looks they were giving Yoshimo, they didn't appear to be overly fond of anyone a bit different to themselves.

They managed to eventually point me in the direction of the Cowled Wizards, and after finally finding their own wing in the massive building we were turned away without as much as a courteous word towards us. Imoen had been arrested for using magic, and would be detained indefinitely as a 'deviant'. They wouldn't tell us where she was being held, or if there was anything we could do to secure her release.

I was very frustrated by the time we left, and though I'd not been overly eager to become involved before, the effect of having slight after slight levied against me was beginning to help me make up my mind.

--

"_We're going to find her and rescue her," I said adamantly. Montaron threw me an incredulous look._

"_Whyfor?"_

"_Because… She's my friend?" I ventured. My halfling companion snorted derisively._

"_Ye'd be better off leavin' 'em te it, and getting' on wi' yer own life," he muttered darkly, throwing a suspicious glance behind us. Yoshimo was still sharing our company, and my short friend was not known for his tolerance of fellow thieves – especially those, like Yoshimo, that hunted for bounties as a living._

"_Perhaps," I shrugged, "but they seem to have completely overlooked the fact that it is _I_, Ellie of Candlekeep, who is the important one here. I mean, Imoen's clever and all, I suppose, but… surely a Bhaalspawn'd be more important?" I was almost pleading with him to agree with me, and Montaron just shook his head in disgust, stalking away and into the inn that we were staying at. I loitered outside, feeling quite lost._

"_If you truly intend to follow this mage and your old friend, I would like to offer my skills to your quest."_

--

So that was how Yoshimo joined with us. I mean, there was only Montaron and I left, and if I was planning to go after this mage for the want of something better to do, then I knew I'd need a band to accompany me.

It was hard, though. I wanted Branwen and Garrick back. Even Xzar. And Skie. Most of all, Skie.

But there was no going back, only going forward – and the mage had tortured me, after all. It was about then that I started remembering his words; how he'd unlock the power in me, stuff like that. Yet, he'd taken Imoen with him, and I didn't know why. Perhaps he knew I'd follow him, and he needed someone to 'experiment' on in my absence? Perhaps he assumed I'd be righteous enough to go after him _because_ he'd managed to capture Imoen. But how could he have known about her?

There were so many questions. I needed the answers; so, for whatever reason, I was going to follow him. And this meant I needed to have people around me to do the actual adventuring on my behalf.

That was when I decided to scour the streets of Athkatla.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Some Artistic license taken, though many thanks to SisterVigilante (Incanto) who gave permission to feature Angelo (who you too can have for BG2! -- coded by the fabulous Kulyok).

_--_

"_You don't actually expect me to eat this, do you?"_

--

We were in a place called the Copper Coronet. Yoshimo had led us to its doors, explaining it as a no-frills establishment where we'd be able to 'meld into the background' and not draw 'unwarranted attention' to ourselves. His choice of words had caused Montaron to grow even _more_ suspicious of his motives for accompanying us, though I just put them down as professional jargon. After all, he hunted bounties for a living.

To say I'd seen cleaner outhouses and more appetising pigswill would be a complete understatement. The inn was filthy; there was dried blood to be seen almost anywhere you examined closely, and a lingering smell of vomit was confirmed if you were stupid enough to check underneath the rows of benches where men and dwarves knocked back tankard after tankard or cheap ale.

And everyone was sweating due to the roaring fireplace that covered almost an entire wall, which had been lit to provide light to the otherwise shady surroundings. Whoever had decided that it would serve just as well as a few well placed torches had obviously forgotten that Amnish summers tended to be notoriously hot, and the denizens of such an establishment weren't known for wearing fashionably airy tunics. Or for bathing regularly.

And then there was the food.

At least, they told me it was food – and I accede, it was edible to a point that you could consume the slop they served and not necessarily die of poisoning overnight, though there was a fairly high chance you'd be so sick that you'd imagine your innards were trying to exit your body via your mouth. But it wasn't food. It was nothing like _food_.

We didn't have much in the way of choice, though, at the start. Funds were low, and the more Montaron argued with me that I was being a foolish whelp, the more determined I was to find Imoen and liberate her from the over-zealous Amnish prisons. Eventually it got to a point where he gave up, and I felt deflated; I didn't actually know if I could be bothered with it all, if I'm to be honest. Imoen was an adult and just as capable of looking after herself as I was, if not more so. But then if I'd said that, I would have had to backtrack and _agree_ with my halfling friend; and Monty could be quite irritating when he was smug.

So there was nothing else for it. I'd have to at least _look_ like I was trying to find Imoen, and that meant I'd have to make enquiries and do some investigations. I was prepared to scour the streets – after all, nothing comes to those who just sit there, does it?

--

"_My lady! What brings you to such a cesspool of deceit and corruption?"_

_I looked up glumly from my still-full mug of cat urine and my eyes met a most glorious sight. A tall man, groomed and _clean_! With the deepest, darkest, dreamiest brown eyes I could ever remember seeing – he almost seemed to be surrounded in a shining white light, so pleasant was he to look at compared to the rest of my surroundings. I smiled up at him moonily and rested my chin on my hand._

"_Hi," I managed to say, giving him the full force of my charm and sharp-wittedness._

_He stared at me for a few moments, his smile frozen onto his features, but his eyes betraying the small tell-tale signs of sudden concern. His eyes then darted to my companions; Yoshimo was only half-paying attention, his deft hands were flicking through a set of cards he'd obtained from… somewhere; and Montaron was openly glaring up at the stranger, scowling as if the future of Faerun depended on his maintaining a chronically bad temper. This didn't seem to put the young man at ease at all. He cleared his throat._

"_Mayhaps you are… new to the city?" he ventured. He sounded as if he were hopeful he was right with his assumption. "Perhaps you have stumbled upon this place by chance, and knew not the level of base criminality that lurks within these walls?"_

_I kept smiling. "Something like that," I managed to mumble. He instantly looked relieved._

"_Then I feel I should offer my services to you, as honour dictates," he stated, with a perfectly sincere expression. Montaron snorted so loudly that he began to choke on his ale. I absent-mindedly thumped him on the back, but my gaze never left the chivalrous stranger._

"_And what can you possibly…" I paused, changing my expression to one of extreme coyness, "offer me?"_

_The young man's cheeks went pink, just above the neatly groomed line of his beard. "T'would seem that my lady has found herself in a place most unworthy of her stature," he said hurriedly. "I would be eager to escort you to somewhere more appropriate, should you so wish."_

--

It was then that I should have realised that the young man's powers of observation weren't the most awe-inspiring. For a start, my clothing was tattered and torn, and I probably looked _completely_ in place amongst the beggars and cut-throats in the Copper Coronet.

Still, it was sweet of him to imply I looked nice.

--

"_We'll no be movin', unless it be te get away from the likes o' ye," Montaron muttered darkly, shoving me roughly in an effort to stop me from continuing to pat his back. I hadn't noticed he'd stopped coughing quite some minutes ago._

"_Unfortunately, our current… cash flow is rather… poor," I said slowly. The young man just nodded understandingly. "Although your concern is… touching."_

_He flushed again, and I applauded myself on my choice of words. Then, swiftly, I kicked out one of the stools from under the table and gestured to it, allowing my facial expression to burst into a huge, beaming smile._

"_Please, do join us," I purred encouragingly. I'd noticed that my new friend was wearing fairly protective armour, and he had a shield slung across his back, and a sling hanging from his belt. A plain looking mace was also partly visible, peeking out from his worn-looking cloak. Could it be that I'd found myself a capable fighter?!_

_He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then carefully lowered himself down and onto the stool, perching uncomfortably on its very edge. He offered me a nervous smile before going back to staring warily at Montaron and Yoshimo. Mostly Montaron._

"_I'm Ellie," I said, suddenly remembering the manners Gorion had taught me. "And these are my companions, Monty and Yoshimo."_

"_Me name be Montaron, ye blasted idiot," the halfling spat venomously. I just rolled my eyes good naturedly and otherwise ignored him._

"_So tell me," I said, leaning forward to emphasise the rip on my tunic which had turned it into something a little more risqué, "what's a man like you doing in a place like _this?"

--

I'm not exactly sure why young Anomen (for that was his name) decided to join us. I mean, he was seeking adventure and honour, to fight for the righteous cause in the name of his God, back then. And he'd happened across a cook, a sociopathic halfling, and a light-fingered foreigner.

You have to wonder if Helm had a sense of humour, or if He just knew which acolytes were worth the bother, and sent the others on wild goose chases. Or maybe it was a test for Anomen. If so, worshipping a God and serving in Their name is much harder than you'd imagine.

But, I digress; somehow Anomen was persuaded to join our group, but only after I'd told him about Imoen and slightly exaggerated about our relationship…

--

"_So we grew up together in Candlekeep, the only two kids that stayed there for any length of time," I said quietly, hoping my downcast eyes and slightly trembling lip were having the desired effect. "And I can't just see her taken away from me like this! She's… she's like a sister to me!"_

_I knew Montaron was staring at me dumbly, and Yoshimo was giving me a quizzical look. I ignored them both; I hadn't thought that dashing knights (or even aspiring-dashing-knights) existed until that moment, and by the Nine Hells, I wasn't letting this one escape._

_Anomen was nodding gravely at me, his sincere, brown eyes shining under his furrowed brow. "A most terrible injustice has been committed," he decided, clenching his hand as it rested on the table. "I would be happy to assist you in this cause, to rescue your childhood friend from her false imprisonment."_

_I smiled at him._

--

So, there I was; now doubly forced into rescuing Imoen due to my own combination of stubbornness and barely-concealed salaciousness. I can't even say anything to excuse my behaviour with Anomen during that first meeting; it had been a long time since I'd been involved with another, and it… hadn't ended too well at all. And despite the trauma of being imprisoned by the mad mage, it appeared that my hormones could only stay quiet for a short while.

So then we numbered four, and a more diverse group would have been hard for me to imagine. Anomen clearly disapproved of the two men already accompanying me, and while Yoshimo was carefully neutral in his actions towards us all, Montaron was equally as dismissive of the cleric in return. And I... I spent the night drinking, wondering where it had all gone so wrong.

--

When I look back on it all, I have to wonder how we managed to get anywhere, really. I mean, the first day was never going to be one full of inspiring ideas or motivational actions; we were lucky enough to find someone else willing to join our cause, though even _that_ was a bit of a sham. The only aim we had was conceived out of sheer-minded petulance and my own feeling of self-importance. And, of course, any other frame of mind would have meant agreeing with Montaron.

That'd never do.

Then, of course, there was the _following_ day, when we actually managed to leave the Copper Coronet as a group. That day was… eventful.

--

_Anomen was eyeing the situation with obvious displeasure. Yoshimo was standing at the entrance of the alley, discretely tucked away into the shadows as he kept a look out for us. _

_Montaron was lazily cleaning the blood off his sword._

_I was holding a torn piece of parchment in my hands that had been addressed to one Master Gaelan Bayle. Mr Bayle was currently staring up at me, unblinking as he lay on the cold cobblestones that ran between the two tall buildings, completely unable to tell me exactly _why_ he he'd received a letter asking him to approach me._

"_Did you not think that, maybe, we could have _spoken_ to him?" I asked Montaron coldly. The halfling barely acknowledged me with a grunt._

"_Who knows what he might have wanted," I continued, undeterred._

"_Exactly," Montaron mumbled._

_I bit my lip in annoyance and looked back down at the corpse of the man who seemed to know much about me, while I knew next to nothing about him. I began reading his letter once again._

"_Well, since this Gaelan Bayle is _DEAD_, maybe we should go looking for this other man… Renal Bloodscalp?" I paused for a moment, hesitantly. "He sounds… nice."_

"_The Bloodscalp is not a man to be trifled with," came Yoshimo's voice from afar. He'd been listening to us all along while conducting his surveillance. "He belongs to an association that brook no involvement from outsiders, and tolerate no criminal activities happening in the city outside their remit." Then he stepped out of his shadowy hiding place and took a step towards us, flashing a wide smile as he did so. "And now you have murdered one of his men."_

"_Oh gods," I muttered, allowing myself to sink down until I was perched upon an upturned crate. "That doesn't sound too good. At all."_

_Yoshimo bent his head in apparent agreement. "Perhaps I should, ah, also add my own admission to this particular tale?"_

_I began to frown without even thinking about it. "Go on," I said._

"_You are aware by now, of course, that I am The Yoshimo, yes?"_

_I stared at him blankly. His shoulders slumped, he deflated before my very eyes._

"_I am renowned in these parts for my skills and expertise," he said, lowering his voice so it was barely a whisper. "Unfortunately, I work for myself, so when I arrived here in the City of Coin, I… stepped on some toes."_

"_Well, that was clumsy," I remarked, not wholly understanding what he meant. I was pretty sure he wasn't referring to dancing though._

"_The Bloodscalp has requested that I pay him a visit to explain my behaviour; but before I had the opportunity, I was captured as I slept, and awoke in the prison where we met."_

"_And… you want to go and visit him?"_

_Yoshimo's face wrinkled. "I would rather not, my friend. I have heard the rumours that fly through these streets each night, on the wings of a hundred perfumed women; we would be well advised to do one of two things, I believe."_

"_What's that?" I asked out of habit, and no sooner had the words left my lips than I was kicking myself. My displays of being the clear leader of the group were already being undermined…_

"_We should either lay low," Yoshimo said conspiringly, casting a knowing eye around the group, and giving me an exaggerated eyebrow-raising. "Or we should leave the city for awhile until the storm calms."_

_I scratched my head, and glanced over to Montaron. To my surprise, the halfling just shrugged, seemingly fine with either method. Anomen, however, was looking fidgety. We'd just killed a thief, which seemed to be the only thing keeping him with us; I wasn't convinced that our methods suited him to the ground._

_I wasn't convinced _Montaron's_ methods suited us to the ground._

"_All right," I sighed. "We'll leave town for a while, get some work, and devise a plan to get Imoen back. Everyone agree?"_

_Yoshimo nodded and flashed his smile again. Montaron grunted and slid his shortsword back into its sheathe. I looked over to Anomen enquiringly. He didn't meet my eyes._

"_I'm sure there's much to put right out in the countryside," I said evenly. "Evil exists everywhere, after all."_

--

From what I can remember, Anomen had agreed to return to the Copper Coronet with Yoshimo to gather what little belongings we'd left. Montaron had assumed control of the money pouch, and sauntered off to find himself some new armour and weapons. I'd asked him to remember to buy for the rest of us, but he'd made no show of actually hearing me above the noise of the empty street.

I remember, then, feeling pathetic. I wasn't born to lead, and no amount of throwing me into perilous situations was ever going to change the fact that I didn't take charge of a band, as much as, let them take charge of me. They'd all gone off to do important things, Yoshimo gently requesting that I have a look around the city, see where there may be jobs for us in the Amnian lands.

Because that was the level of my capability, wasn't it?

And for some reason, I started to feel very sorry for myself. I moped my way along the roads, completely lost – I knew I had a couple of hours before I needed to be at the City Gates, where my companions were allegedly going to be meeting with me. I wasn't even sure if they'd turn up, really. Everything had changed; I'd gone from the Hero of Baldur's Gate, completely with _friends_, to a useless girl who couldn't even cook because she had no pans. And my friends? I only had Montaron left, and he wasn't exactly friendly material.

It looked very bleak, and I wasn't sure how it could possibly get any worse.

--

_It had looked pretty from the outside. To be honest, it looked pretty on the inside too; more maintained than I'd expected. A lot of love and care had gone into preserving the tombs and mausoleums. I briefly wondered who'd bother to look after my own grave when my time came, but then realised it was futile. I'd have long turned into dust before anyone could even think of burying me._

_I wandered along the winding paths, and allowed myself a little smile. Roses grew here, thorny and bright, adding some colour to the pale stones and glimmering marble that highlighted a particularly wealthy family. I relaxed, ignoring the rather morbid reality of my surroundings and weighing it up against the slightly more important fact that it was quiet and peaceful here._

_I was beginning to wonder if it was the only place in Athkatla where it _was_ quiet._

_The sun was shining down, but there was a pleasant breeze rippling through the air. The warmth was more pleasant, and less stifling than usual, so I allowed myself to sit down on one of the low walls that ran around the edge of one of the graveyard's inner sections, and leant back against the side of a sandstone tomb. For a moment, my melancholy lifted and I pushed aside all the negativity that had been floating about in my head, and ignored the fact I was probably a wanted woman by a large, powerful and ruthless organisation known for its lack of tolerance._

_I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. Every single one of my muscles relaxed._

_For, oh. All of a split second—_

--

I've had plenty of enemies. More enemies than friends, easily. I don't go out _looking_ to make them, though – it just happens. I used to blame my blood and the taint, and… well, anything I could blame, really. Even Montaron, sometimes. But the truth of the matter was that over the course of the years from leaving Candlekeep, to the conclusion of my part on the Bhaalspawn wars, was that I couldn't _always_ blame someone else. No… sometimes, I think it had to be me.

But sometimes it was everything to do with me, and at the same time… nothing to do with me.

--

"_Hi, friend."_

_One of my eyes instinctively shot open, staring ahead manically. I saw nothing, of course; whoever had decided to sneak up on me in my moment of defencelessness was clever enough to be subtle in their approach._

_I was sure I knew that voice._

_I subconsciously slid across the wall to the left, leaping to my feet and rounding on my mystery assailant with a scowl on my face, and my hands lingering beside my belt. I had no weapon on me, but I hoped that they'd assume I had a blade or two hidden underneath my cloak._

_There was no one there._

_A tap to my shoulder made me shriek in surprise, and I spun around to find myself staring directly into someone's chest. It was obviously a man, and by the state of his leathers, he hadn't seen a good bath – or any kind of bath, really – for quite some time. I backed away with my nose wrinkled, and took several moments to remember to look at the person's face._

"_Angelo?!" I exclaimed, full of wonderment at myself. I was never very good with names, and in all honesty, I was sure I'd barely paid attention to any of Sarevok's henchmen's monikers. But then I was full of self-doubt almost immediately after; was it Angelo? Did Angelo have a beard back then? Wasn't his hair a different colour?_

_I stood up on my tiptoes to peer over his shoulder; I couldn't _see_ any sign of a longbow. _Rats. I've gotten it wrong again._ Angelo had most _definitely _had a bow. The scar on my arm would remind me of that for a very long time._

"_Good day, Ellie," the stranger remarked, pleasantly enough. He didn't correct me. Surely I was right? I decided to test it._

"_Shouldn't you be…. Dead?" I queried. He didn't even flinch at my question. Instead, he smiled._

"_Should I?" he asked. For a moment I wondered if I was dead and in the Afterlife. Had I, somehow, wound up in Hell? What on Faerun had possessed me to come into this graveyard anyhow?!_

"_If you are who I think you are," I replied cautiously, "then yes."_

"_It's amazing," he drawled, snapping his fingers and creating a ring of mirror-Angelo's to surround him, "what a bit of magic can do. You thought you'd sliced me in half? You… got the wrong one."_

_By now I was backing away; slowly initially, but I was pretty sure I'd be making up the speed all too soon. _

"_What do you want?" I asked, realising I was completely lost in amongst the graves. I had no idea which way to head, but logically I knew that _any_ way was better than just standing there._

"_I want…" he said slowly, advancing after me, smiling all the time. "I want... To join you."_

_My mouth dropped open and my foot caught on the kerb edging the path. Before I knew it, I'd tumbled backwards and was looking up at him from my rather ungraceful seated position._

"_Eh?" I managed._

_He offered a lacklustre shrug, looking around at his surroundings and exhaling deeply. "Back in the Gate? It's been and gone, Ellie," he said. Then he looked directly at me. "Why can't we just… forget the past?"_

_I scrambled to my feet, my fists clenched into balls at my side, drawing myself up to my full height so I could better glare up at him. "Why can't we forget it?!" I asked, almost shrieking. "WHY CAN'T—"_

_His hand went over my mouth deftly, and I was quickly dragged away from the path and in between two weatherworn mausoleums before I realised what was happening. On regaining my composure after the initial surprise, I managed to twist my way from his grasp, spin on my heel and punch him in the gullet. He staggered backwards from the force, though I seemed to do little more than wind him._

"_I can't 'forget about the past', as you so easily put it," I hissed, "because, as I recall, _you_ were the person who sentenced me to hang!"_

_He took a few moments, bent over, wheezing to himself, before he replied. And then he fixed me with a stare that was not in the least bit apologetic. "That was then," he said, as if that made all the difference. "This is now. You killed your brother, and it was his orders I followed. And now you're here, and in a bit of trouble I'd wager."_

_I opened my mouth to object, but he kept going._

"_Can't say I'm doing too well myself, truth be told. Memories are long in the North, and a man can't keep an eye on his own back twenty four hours a day. All I'm suggesting is… you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours. Mutual assistance in times of need."_

"_I don't need your help," I spat at him. "I have plenty of frie…nds…" I couldn't help it. The world trailed off, leaving me to look like I was some pathetic loner who couldn't even befriend her companions. Which wasn't true, of course. I could and had – they'd just managed to die on me, since then._

_He looked around. "So I see," he noted dryly. _

_I scowled. "I should hand you into the guard," I said._

"_You know I wouldn't let you do that."_

"_Then I should… I should finish you off, since I obviously failed last time!"_

_He chuckled. "You'll forgive me if I don't tremble in fear, yes? Of course, there's probably nothing to stop me making sure you find your way to a certain Renal Bloodscalp's office, is there?"_

_I knew I'd gone pale. I mean, I literally _felt_ the blood draining from my face. I opened my mouth once, twice – I felt like a goldfish. All the time, he watched me with an expression of amusement._

"_Things get… around," he explained cryptically, when I raised my eyebrows at him. "So, I'll make my offer again. I served your brother well; you know that. But all I want now is a simpler life – be on the hunt for land, riches, men… whatever you want. As long as your heart isn't set on swelling the flow of the rivers with blood, then I'm your man."_

_--_

What could I do? Looking back, his threats about going to Renal were as hollow as a Montaron's black heart, but I wasn't about to take the chance.

And so, with a reluctant nod, and a shifty glance around, I led him to the City Gates, where we met the others and distributed the decidedly halfling-friendly goods Montaron had bought for us.

And then we numbered five.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Have ye completely lost yer mind, ye half-baked cretin? Being ye forgetful te the plan o' hangin' he had fe us?"_

---

Montaron only realised who Angelo was when we were about three miles away from the gates. Considering we were walking, and it'd taken us quite a while to even get _that_ far, I was slightly surprised; how had we managed to survive back in the Gate with the halfling as our apparent stealthily observant one?

---

_"He needs us as much as we, uh, need him," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "And remember the old adage, eh? 'Safety in Numbers' and all that."_

_Montaron looked at me as if I'd spouted two extra of every limb. "Safety in numbers?" he asked derisively. "E'en when one o' yer numbers is a bloody danger himsel'?"_

_I glared back at the halfling. "Yes, Montaron," I said through gritted_ _teeth. "Even_ then. _After all, I've travelled with you long enough to see that I'm safer when madmen are on_ my _side._.."

_The halfling snorted, but I could see an amused twinkle in his eye before he turned his icy glare back to Angelo, who was wandering along a few paces away as if he was completely oblivious to the discussion. Which, he quite obviously wasn't, unless he was deaf._

_I sighed and quickened my pace slightly, leaving the two of them to bring up the rear. Yoshimo gave me a sidelong look as I drew level with him, smiling warmly at my obvious annoyance. I mellowed slightly; the Kara-tuan was quite charming indeed, and though I'd only known him a short time I was just grateful to have someone normal to turn to once in a while._

_"The small one does not trust my countryman?" he asked. His eyes were roving across the rolling meadow that lay before us, and he sauntered along easily despite the pack and bow on his back and the katana hanging from his belt. If you ignored those, he could have been mistaken for someone having a pleasant stroll through the countryside, making the most of a fine day._

"_He doesn't trust anyone," I said, "least of all himself. Still, it's one thing we agree on – I don't trust him either."_

_Yoshimo chuckled. "That cannot be entirely true, my friend" he noted thoughtfully. "You have travelled together for some time, have you not? Perhaps, as we walk, you could regale Yoshimo with a tale from your past adventures, no?"_

_My eyebrow rose so high it almost disappeared under my hairline. "What makes you think any of it was interesting?" I asked. I knew my tone was edgy, but I couldn't help it. Being defensive was second nature to me. First, of course, was being the God of Murder's offspring. Plus, Yoshimo had been loitering around when I'd whined to Montaron about being a Bhaalspawn, yet not being the centre of attention. I began to wonder if he'd overheard._

_The bounty hunter shrugged easily, offering a reassuring smile. "Tales that are old and tired to one, are new and interesting to another," he said. "I did not mean to offend or pry; merely to learn a bit more about the woman I walk with."_

_My heart fluttered._

_---_

The only way I can excuse myself is to point out how young I was back then. I'd barely seen twenty summers, and nineteen of them had been behind the cloistered walls of Candlekeep, where (aside from Imoen) the only young creatures were the cows in the small paddock and the hens in the barn.

To give some sort of perspective, Gorion was one of the younger monks, but he could probably have realistically been my grandfather.

After I left Candlekeep, I lost the closest thing I had to a parent _and_ any rights I had to go back to the fortress within the first day of my apparent freedom. Soon after, I met with Xzar and Montaron, and I realised I'd have to move on with my life. Sure, I could sit around and be sad about the misfortune I'd had, but Gorion wouldn't have wanted that. He'd brought me up without sheltering me from the topic of death at all – and considering the average age of the monks, I got to see a fair few funeral pyres in my youth.

If I'd sat around moping, I might have ended up like them; old, lonely and having seen nothing of the world except for the same four walls day in and day out.

Gorion had told me of some of his travels when I was a little girl. I'd listened to his recollections, entranced and enchanted by the magical and mystical beings he described. By the places he helped me see in my imagination. He was reluctant for us to leave Candlekeep, yes; but I think he was aware that it had to happen, one day. He'd fuelled my passion for adventure and excitement. And that was exactly what I'd found. Well, that, and _young_ people!

And to start with, there'd been Garrick. Garrick, who wasn't as naïve as he liked to pretend he was. We had an innocent romance of sorts after we met in Beregost; stealing the odd kiss under the stars, me listening to him reciting some poetry. But I didn't feel any kind of spark, and all the books and tomes I'd read before I left Candlekeep had made it sound much more interesting than it appeared to be. And so it all faded away, and we continued on as comrades, him swooning over Branwen from the first moment he set eyes on her stony body, and me… Well.

His name had been Coran. He was dashing and young – and as if it couldn't get any better, he was _exotic._ He was an elf – and sure, he was over a century old, but that only meant he was still in his youth.

He was my first love, amongst other firsts. I thought his sweet words were spoken softly only to me, and I ignored Branwen when she implied he may have less than honourable intentions. He made me feel like a princess, and for a few glorious weeks, the world was centred on me.

But then he grew bored. The first attention I'd ever received from a man who truly desired me was drying up, and I was slowly fading into the background again.

Then we returned to Candlekeep and discovered what I was.

Most men would have fled, or worried, but not Coran. His interest was rekindled; his desires returned and his roving eye settled more often on me. But with the discovery of my dubious heritage came a renowned sense of individuality and confidence. I returned Coran's often instinctual affections for a while, but then bade him farewell when we returned to the city. He wasn't exactly broken-hearted, and we parted on amicable enough terms.

After our victory against Sarevok I thrived on my newly found fame, and a string of suitors found their way to my bedchamber. Very few of them managed to see a second night under my bedsheets, however.

In a way, it was maybe a good thing for my reputation that Irenicus struck when he did; my wantonness was becoming well known, and now, looking back, I'm just relieved I didn't reach the prolific heights that other, more gossiped about individuals, had.

But still… I was young, and I craved romance far, far too much.

---

_We reached a small farming hamlet as it began to get dark. No one really knew where we were going; I'd been tasked with finding us some kind of employment in the lands before we'd left the city, and all I'd managed to do was return with someone who'd tried to kill me once before. It was only natural, then, that the questions would begin._

"_What fool's errand are we embarking on?" Anomen asked. His teeth were slightly clenched. "We traipse around the countryside doing little more than wearing down the road with our march."_

_I snorted. We'd hardly been meandering along fast enough for our gait to have been labelled a 'march'. Anomen turned to me._

"_My lady, I must protest at our apparent inactions," he said. He was scowling now. He'd been in a bad temper for most of the day – I could only imagine it was because he'd realised what a grave mistake he'd made in joining with us. "I understand that the behaviour of our… companion, has led us to this path, but I must urge you to reconsider the folly of this course. We are doing little to aid the betterment of the land by aimlessly wandering."_

_I frowned slightly. "I thought that's what paladins did."_

_Anomen gave me a confused look. "I'm sorry, my lady; I don't understand?"_

"_Wandering," I explained. "Paladins wander, don't they? I read books; they just go off wherever their heart tells them to go, and they find evil, and they quell it. They… oh, what's the word."_

"_Interfere?" Yoshimo offered helpfully, a crooked smile on his lips. I sniggered until I caught a look at the poisonous glare Anomen was giving the bounty hunter._

"_Er, no," I said, quickly changing my expression to one of disapproval. Yoshimo gallantly bowed his head, in obviously feigned remorse. "It was in a book I read, when I was younger. Me and Imoen used to fight over it." _

_I neglected to add that we only really ever spoke to each other much when we were squabbling over books. _

"_It was about this knight, or paladin, or something," I continued, ignoring Anomen's exasperated splutter. "He rode on his horse all over the lands and righted the wrongs of many. He didn't really plan where he was going next; instead he believed that Fate would direct him to where he was needed most. He called it… crusades! Yes, that's the word. Paladins wander around, crusading at things."_

"_My lady," Anomen began weakly. "It… it is not truly that simple."_

_My brow wrinkled. "No?"_

"_No. The members of the Order… they are sent on campaigns, to serve where they are needed."_

"_Sent? Who sends them?"_

"_The Prelate makes most of the decisions relating to deployment-"_

"_None of you just… roam the lands?" I was confused. Had all the books I'd read been wrong?_

"_Not many of us." Anomen's voice had turned much gentler than before. He actually appeared quite stricken. "I suppose it's not unheard of for some who serve to prefer a less…"_

"_Prissy-arsed?"_

"…Regimented_ way of life," the cleric continued, ignoring Montaron's interruption. "But truthfully, my lady; we do little good roaming well protected lands, hoping to find trouble."_

_I sighed. He was probably right, and I nodded my reluctant agreement. "Well, it's late now," I said, looking up to the darkening sky. "We should set up camp, see if we can get any provisions from the farm across the way, and in the morning we'll decide what to do next."_

---

And that was that. Or, so I thought…

---

_I sat with a contented smile on my face, slowly stirring my concoction around in its pot. The plump farmer's wife that I'd gone to barter with had been very welcoming, almost to the point of persuading us to stay with her husband and she in their farmhouse. I'd politely declined, purchasing a small amount of provisions, and squealing delightedly when she gifted me one of her old metal pots, a few chipped plates and a wooden spoon. She said it was the least she could do, and I started to feel almost whole again._

_Anomen was vigorously polishing his armour. His scowl hadn't abated at all, and he was pointedly ignoring the rest of our group. Now and then I'd hear him murmuring under his breath; usually along the lines of 'Helm, help me', or 'By Helm's beard, I'll make it shine!'_

_Montaron wasn't even around. I wasn't sure where he'd gone to, but I decided it was probably for the best if I remained blissfully unaware. I knew he'd hear the sound of our meal being served and mysteriously appear only moments later. It was just how he was._

_Yoshimo was sitting beside Angelo, and together they lazily played cards and chatted conversationally. Mostly it was about their shared ancestry; Angelo had roots in the far west as well, it seemed, though he lacked the slight accent that Yoshimo's voice carried. I was only half-listening to their banter; Angelo had completely ignored me since we left the city, and I was only too happy to keep it that way. Truth be known, I was waiting for an opportune moment to 'lose' him in a crowd, or some such. That was pretty unlikely, though, in the middle of nowhere._

"_Ellie tells me that your paths have crossed before," Yoshimo noted. I tensed so much that I almost forgot to keep stirring. Almost._

"_We did run into each other," Angelo agreed slowly. He didn't once look at me, though I could feel Yoshimo's curious eyes moving between us both. I'd neglected to actually go into any details when I was giving him a brief recollection of our time in Baldur's Gate – I'd only quickly glossed over the fact that Angelo had been, at that time, a Captain in the Flaming Fist._

"_Tell me more," the roguish Kara-Tuan said eagerly. "Yoshimo cannot imagine that Ellie was a breaker of the peace!"_

_There was a small silence, then Angelo placed his cards down on the ground and smirked. He was looking at me. I quickly looked away, becoming very interested in the pot._

"_There's nothing interesting to say," I said quickly, peering in at the dark stew bubbling pleasantly around my spoon. "And our food will nearly be ready; where _is_ Montaron?!"_

_Yoshimo sighed slightly, obviously in disappointment. He looked as if he was about to turn the topic onto other matters, or, perhaps, offer to go and look for the halfling for me. Angelo interrupted that._

"_I sentenced her to hang."_

_You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. I cringed visibly, shrinking closer and closer to the pot, which was rapidly becoming my point of sanity. Yoshimo's eyebrows rose so far up his forehead that they almost disappeared into his hairline. Anomen choked._

"_Are we to hear the tale?" Yoshimo asked, unflappably. "Some of the greatest tales of romance ever to be heard are grown from the tenacious roots of adversity."_

"_Romance?" I was incredulous. Had Yoshimo not heard that he'd said?_

"_If Ellie wants you to hear the story, I've no doubt she'll let you know," Angelo said easily. "What's important is that now we're both on the same side."_

"_Shameless cur." Anomen's face was almost scarlet. "You dare besmirch the honour of a lady by implying she lived outside the laws of justice? And then, should we believe such an outrageous lie, you claim to be working alongside her? What kind of man of authority are you?"_

"_An ex-one." Angelo smiled. "I no longer 'work' for the Flaming Fist. In fact, I've found that the tables are most decidedly turned. I suppose you could say I'm on the run, of sorts. Just like your leader once was."_

"_I never once ran away from anyone!" I denied hotly. "Whatever your _old employer_ threw at me, I met head on!"_

"_That's true," he acceded. "But you had the safety of your group to hide behind. I've been left with nothing."_

"_You should've chosen your allies more carefully, then," I hissed. He did nothing but continue to smile at me. I stirred the stew with renewed vigour._

"_Your brother-" he began._

"_Brother?" Yoshimo asked. His eyebrow darted upwards again._

"Brother_?!" Anomen spluttered._

Oh Gods_, I thought. _That's _really_ set the cat amongst the pigeons.

"_-was a very persuasive man," Angelo concluded. "Must be something in the blood, eh Chief?"_

"_Don't call me that." I was virtually growling. "How dare you come amongst us like this and… and…"_

"_And tell them who – and what – you really are?" He held his hands out, palms upturned. "Sorry, Chief. I just thought we'd all get along a bit better if we were completely honest."_

"_Why you-" I began, ready to throw myself over to the scheming low-life and throttle him there and then. But then I noticed Anomen looking at me with concern. I bit back my instincts and forced myself to take a deep breath._

"_You're right," I eventually said, my smile forced. "What he's said is… correct."_

"_You are the sister of Sarevok?" Anomen looked as if his world had come crumbling down around him. I doubted he'd stay past the next dawn. "You, too, then are… are a… Bhaalspawn?"_

_Yoshimo had gone very quiet by this point, but his dark eyes were looking at me thoughtfully. I just nodded. Anomen slumped back, running his hand through his hair in apparent shock. _

"_I do not know what to say," was all he said._

"_I didn't know it myself until a few months ago," I said quietly. "I had no idea. But it made sense – why else would Sarevok care enough to find me and have me killed? Why else would he kill my foster father? I should have figured it out sooner, but I didn't even consider that he could be of Bhaal's blood too. It was only when Tamoko told me that I realised."_

_Yoshimo stirred slightly, shifting his position. But he stayed silent. Angelo sighed wistfully._

"_Tamoko…" he said softly. "Now there was a lass. Strong, feisty… and one fiery temper if you caught her at the wrong time. Shame she was so smitten with your brother. She should have done much better for herself."_

"_She begged me not to kill him," I said. I moved the pot away from the fire. The stew was done. "She said he could be redeemed – that any of us could be. But she was wrong."_

_An uncomfortable silence fell, and I reached for the plates, scooping out the contents of the pot to fill them with tender pieces of meat and perfectly cooked vegetables. The aroma drifting through the air made my stomach grumble; I might not be able to do a lot of things, but I could certainly season a supper._

"_Food's ready," I said flatly. Yoshimo just nodded curtly, a small frown on his brow. I wondered if he felt bad for bringing up the topic. Angelo was staring into the distance, lost to the world, and Anomen had his head in his hands. I doubted he even heard me._

"_I'll need to go and find-"_

"_At bloody last," came Montaron's voice, the halfling slinking into view as he snatched up one of the plates and eyed the contents with a critical eye. "It'll do, I'm supposin'. Ye be gettin' better wi' practice."_

_Normally I'd have offered a witty retort, but I just sighed, unwilling to have a debate about who was the better cook. Montaron immediately noticed this, and looked around at the others, quirking an eyebrow as he began to noisily eat._

"_What be wrong with ye all?" he asked with his mouth full. "Ye'd think somebody'd gone an' croaked."_

_---_

So that was our first evening together, out and under the stars. No more was said about the past, though it would be broached again in the future. I know realise why Yoshimo's silence had come so abruptly, though at the time I thought it was just a reflection of his ill-comfort about the topic.

Anomen barely ate. He looked pale and drawn by the firelight, and I was beginning to feel sorry for him. I was wasting his time, dragging him around with us. At least Yoshimo had dubious scruples – and I knew from past experience that Montaron and Angelo were no saints. No, Anomen didn't deserve to end up with us – he was seeking honour and glory, but it looked like all he'd achieve with us would be trouble and strife. I knew I had to find a way to get back to the city, or at least a decent sized town, so he could pursue his goals down another road.

But Fate was having none of that.

---

"_I'll watch first," I said, breaking the ever long silence that had fallen over the group. Even Montaron had stopped trying to goad the others into petty bickering. "I'm not tired."_

_Angelo shrugged and sauntered over to his bedroll, lying down atop it on his back as he gazed up to the stars. Yoshimo offered me a small bow before he went to do likewise, though his eyes were closed as soon as his head hit the crude pillow made from one of his spare tunics. Montaron yawned theatrically and stretched out his arms._

"_I'll be doin' the last," he said. "Ye'd better no be wakin' me up until it be nearly dawn."_

_I didn't answer him, preferring, instead to neatly pack away the pots and plates that I'd washed at a nearby stream. Within moments, the halfling's snores were echoing around the camp. It made me smile slightly – there was nothing like Montaron's snoring to draw attention to you._

"_Do you wish company, my lady?" Anomen asked but he didn't look at me. I shook my head, then realised the folly of my actions._

"_No, Anomen, but thank you. Get some rest. We'll need to work out what we're doing tomorrow."_

_He nodded simply, the last to drift away to his bedroll, though when he lay down, he lay on his side, with his back to me. Whether it was a conscious decision on his part or not, it felt like he was shunning me. A mixture of emotions threatened to bubble up inside, but I fought them all away and pulled my journal out from my bag._

_---_

People always wonder why I kept a journal. They think that, as an adventurer, I was too busy to wrote down my thoughts, my observations – my recollections of the day. Piffle! The long, dark nights were the perfect time for me to write. I always felt at my loneliest then, and I always found the peace to scribe the words into the tattered old diary that Gorion had given me when I turned sixteen.

To my shame, I never used it when I lived in Candlekeep. He'd said that every growing girl needed an outlet, but I didn't know what he meant at the time. He meant hormones, of course – but it was heard to even realise they existed when I was cloistered in the Keep's walls. Yet it was one of the few things I made sure I had packed when I heard we were leaving, and not long after his death I began to use it.

I was taught to read and write from an early age, so when we travelled with companions who couldn't, I was astounded. I soon learnt who would be able to pry and who wouldn't, and was always kinder about those whom I knew could decipher the elaborate script that I'd adopted as my handwriting. The others were usually the targets for a bout of scathing sarcasm, or a tirade about their mannerisms.

And right at the back of the book was a handful of pages that Xzar had enchanted for me. They could only be opened by me, and were safe from curious eyes and sneak peeks. It was in those places that I chronicled my adventures in love and lust, and I even now occasionally read back over them to remind me of my youth. By the time we'd reached that fateful night in Amn, only three of the dozen or so pages had been filled – mostly with my escapades with Coran and the other men I'd met in the city. That night I didn't even look at that section; it'd be a little while longer before it got any use…

---

"_Help me! You must help me!"_

_I scrambled to my feet, snapping my diary shut and looking around in a panic. I'd expected a fairly easy shift of watch – we were camped right beside a farm, safe in the lands of some noble's holdings. We weren't meant to be disturbed!_

"_Please! They've taken my father!"_

_A girl appeared in the light of the dying fire. My hand hovered above the knife that was sheathed in my belt, and I watched her warily. She was taller than me, with straight brown hair that hung daintily around her shoulders. A few beads and ribbons were braised in her bangs, clicking together as she shifted agitatedly. Large dark circles hung under her eyes; not a total surprise considering the late hour, and judging by the fine clothes she wore and her accented voice, she was no farmer's daughter or peasant girl._

"_Who are you?"_

_She just looked at me silently before her gaze switched over to the men who'd begun stirring at the sound of her fearful voice. Anomen was gallantly moving over to her with his dark, concerned eyes. Yoshimo and Montaron were getting to their feet; one looked intrigued, the other looked irate. And Angelo…_

_Angelo continued to lounge on his bedroll, having lazily turned over to get a good look at the newcomer while reclining with his head resting on his hand._

"_Lady De Arnise?" _

_Nalia nodded to Anomen, visibly relaxing at his recognition. He reached out to gently take her hand, and it was only then that I realised she was trembling, whether in cold or in fright._

"_It's Anomen, isn't it?" she asked. "Anomen Delryn?"_

_He nodded, and she closed her eyes. For a moment I thought she was going to faint._

"_You must help me," she finally pleaded. "They've invaded!"_

"_Who've invaded?" I asked, thoroughly confused. I hoped, briefly, that she didn't mean us; then realised that if she _did_ mean us, she'd hardly be asking us for help._

"_A young noblewoman in distress?" Yoshimo asked, a smile crossing his lips. I could almost see him counting the coin she'd have hidden away in her home. "How could we decline our aid?"_

"_My name is Nalia and my father is the Lord of these lands. I need a strong hand to assist me." She looked over at Angelo and pointed at the fighter, who was now nonchalantly getting to his feet. "You! You look capable and hearty, like you've had formal training."_

"_You could say that," he muttered, looking over to me. I wrinkled my nose and looked away, back to the frantic young girl._

"_Unless you tell us what's the matter, then I don't-"_

"_There is no time!" she exclaimed. "I only hope that the attackers have not made it inside. If they have...if they have breached the inner courtyard they will be hard to rout."_

_I exchanged a look with Anomen. "In the courtyard? You have invaders in your home?" I asked. "Who? _What?_"_

_Nalia sighed in exasperation. "Will you help me or not? I will explain on the way if you will!" She looked over at Montaron. "Will none of you rabble aid me? I've helped plenty of your kind!"_

_I blinked. I was actually lost for words._

"_Calm down, my lady," Anomen said kindly, taking the girl gently by the arm and steering her over to the fire where he manoeuvred her to sit on a tree stump. "We will gladly assist you in your plight, but we cannot act rashly."_

"_No, no," she cried, jumping back up to her feet as soon as he let her go. "We must act with all haste! I... I have tried to be a good person, but none of the local peasantry will help. And after all I've done for them too!"_

"_Ye be better watchin' yer words, ye shriekin' wench," Montaron noted menacingly. I noticed he'd drawn his sword, and openly glared at him, waving him away. Nalia looked even more distraught than before._

"_Please, save your wrath for the task ahead," she pleaded, her eyes falling back to me. "My family's land is under siege. I… I will reward you, but only if we hurry. I cannot guarantee anything will be left if the keep is looted. Please… will you help me?"_

_I looked quickly over to my companions. Montaron's eyes had lit up at the prospect of treasure, and Anomen was cutting quite the figure as the gallant knight-in-training. Yoshimo gave me a slight, quick nod and my eyes fell on Angelo, the final member of our group._

"_Your call, Chief," he said._

_I sighed. "Let's get packed; we'll make our way to Nalia's home as soon as we can."_


End file.
